


Room to Talk

by holdontoyourhulahoops



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Confessions, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Obliviousness, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are hopeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6413047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdontoyourhulahoops/pseuds/holdontoyourhulahoops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which one snarky comment from Yahaba makes Hanamaki realize he's been a dirty hypocrite all this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room to Talk

“Oi, Oikawa, why are you standing like that?”

“Like what?”

Hanamaki sighs, concealing a smile as he tugs his sweaty practice jersey over his head.  Beside him, he hears Matsukawa muffle a snicker into his hand.

“You’re limping.  Honestly, did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Iwa-chan, I’m not-”

“Your knee is bothering you again, isn’t it?  You idiot, one day you might work yourself to death.”

Oikawa squawks indignantly, but that does little to deter his best friend.  The rest of Aoba Jousai exchanges amused glances as they watch a still-shirtless Iwaizumi shove Oikawa down onto a bench.

“I’m fine,” he says weakly, but Iwaizumi has already tugged down the brace on his knee, letting out a low hiss.  

“You should have said something, you moron. Do you want to die?”

“It doesn’t even really hurt-”

“You can’t lie to me, you dumbass,” Iwaizumi grumbles. Oikawa’s knee is now cradled in his lap as he examines the swelling with his eyebrows scrunched together.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa whimpers, lip trembling.  “You don’t need to-”

“Who else is gonna make you take care of yourself?”

Behind them, Kunimi pointedly rolls his eyes, and lets out a tired sigh.  Predictably, neither of them notice.

“Come on, let’s go get ice for this.  You’re taking practice easy tomorrow.”

“I said, it’s fine-”

“That wasn’t up for debate,” Iwaizumi half-growls, but his eyebrows are pinched together in concern, and he’s uncharacteristically gentle as he helps Oikawa stand up, supporting most of his weight himself.  “Are you okay like this?”

“I already told you-”

“Just try not to put any weight on your knee.”

A flustered Kindaichi, bless his soul, actually tries to say something to them as he timidly takes a step closer to Iwaizumi’s side.  “Um… Do you need help…?”

“Nah, I’ve got it.  You all get finished changing, I’ll make sure our dumbass captain doesn’t manage to destroy his knee permanently,” Iwaizumi tells him.  He helps Oikawa limp toward the hallway, practically carrying him.

“Iwa-chan, really, it’s not that bad!”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“You should at least put on a shirt-” Oikawa insists, just as the door swings shut behind them.  There’s a brief pause.  The rest of the team exchanges silent glances before Iwaizumi storms back inside, rips a t-shirt from his locker, and marches back out without exchanging a word with anyone.

The team waits with bated breath for a few more seconds, before letting out a collective sigh of relief.  Kindaichi slumps against his locker, blushing furiously, while Watari and Yahaba shoot each other exasperated looks.  

While most of their underclassmen admired their captain and vice captain too much to really gossip about them, Hanamaki figures they’d have to be completely blind to not catch on at some point.  It’s getting a little unreasonable at this point, honestly.

“How many more insulting nicknames can Iwaizumi come up with for Oikawa before he accidentally just let’s it slip that he actually wants to kiss his stupid face?” he whispers, quietly enough for only Matsukawa to hear.

“Have to hand it to Tooru, he still doesn’t have any clue,” Matsukawa drawls, in a vaguely humorless voice.  “This is just getting sad.”

Hanamaki throws his hand over his heart dramatically.  “When will they just get married and put us all out of our misery?” he moans, making minimal effort to keep his voice down this time.  Watari snickers into his hand, and Kindaichi’s ears glow a darker shade of red.  “I’ll may have to force them myself if they don’t get their shit together soon…”

Hanamaki has to duck away from Matsukawa trying to dig his elbow into his rib cage, snickering obnoxiously.  In the scuffle, he almost misses the sound of Yahaba mumbling something beneath his breath.  

“Like you have any room to talk…”

Hanamaki cuts off abruptly, wondering if he'd misheard.  He whips around to shoot their second year a bewildered look.  Yet, Yahaba must have realized he had spoken a little too loudly, because his face is now carefully concealed behind the door of his locker; seeming far too innocent to be all that convincing.

Hanamaki furrows his eyebrows, confused.

Matsukawa, however, doesn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.  “Are you volunteering to officiate the wedding, then?  Because I’ve always figured you’d be more of a ‘gets wasted and makes out with the maid of honor at the reception’ kinda guy.”

Hanamaki snorts; though it comes out a little more forced than usual.  He can’t quite get past what he’d just heard Yahaba say, mostly because he has absolutely no clue what he was talking about.

“For your information, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable way to enjoy a wedding.”  

Matsukawa offers him a lazy grin, eyes crinkling at the edges.    

“I suppose we’ll just have to get wasted together.  Can’t have you causing a scandal when you make out with Oikawa’s sister.”

Hanamaki scowls at him.  “Gross!”

Laughing, Matsukawa merely reaches out to ruffle his friend’s hair.  “That’s why you have me.  I’ll stop you from making any decisions you might regret.”

“You’ve enabled almost every awful decision I’ve made in the past three years.”

Matsukawa smirks, and doesn’t make any attempt to deny it.  “Oh, and you’re our shining bastion of responsibility?”

“Touché…” Hanamaki allows, wrinkling his nose.  He pulls on his training jacket and tosses his gym bag over his shoulder.  From the corner of his eyes, he catches Yahaba leveling him with a familiar look, but as soon as he glances over the second year has already turned to tell Watari something.

A strange feeling claws at Hanamaki’s chest.  Yahaba is unusually perceptive, and he doesn’t like not knowing whatever that glance might have implied.

Still, it’s not as if he’s about to confront him over it.  

Matsukawa follows him from the locker room, whistling something beneath his breath.  They walk side-by-side like they do everyday, though for some reason, Hanamaki can’t bring himself to look his friend in the eye.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Why?” Hanamaki replies, perhaps a little too quickly. But it’s not a lie- there’s really nothing wrong.  He’s not sure why he’s so caught up on Yahaba’s strange behavior.

Matsukawa frowns at him, quirking an eyebrow.  “You just seem kinda quiet.”

“I guess there’s not much to talk about.”

“You know Iwaizumi will make sure Oikawa takes care of that knee, right?  He cares way too much.”

Hanamaki bulks, rolling his eyes to heaven.  “Seriously?  If I got worried every time Iwaizumi decided to coddle our team toddler, I’d probably be in an eternal state of anxiety.”

“Still, it did look pretty bad today.”

“I trust Iwaizumi to take care of it,” Hanamaki replies.  “I have unwavering faith in our dear ace’s coddling abilities.  Whether or not he’ll finally work up the nerve to just give in and freaking say something about the increasingly palpable tension between them, I don’t know.”

Matsukawa snorts.  “Sooner or later, someone on the team is going to snap.”

“Well, it’s not gonna be me. There’s no way I’m explaining it to those morons.”

Matsukawa hums in agreement, and they fall into a more comfortable silence; shuffling along until they reach the corner where they part ways.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Matsukawa mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, see you,” Hanamaki replies, starting off toward his house.  In the past few minutes, he’s all but forgotten about whatever he’d overhead in the locker room. The odd feeling in his stomach from earlier has almost dissipated.  Yahaba is kind of a weird kid, he tells himself.  It was probably nothing.

“Hey, Makki-”

Hanamaki glances over his shoulder, to find Matsukawa watching him with a sarcastic grin on his face.  

“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t mind drunkenly making out with you at the reception.”

Hanamaki blinks, feeling his face go red.  For a moment, he struggles to remember how to breathe.  His mind reels; back to the drawling tone of Yahaba’s voice from less than a half hour earlier;

‘ _Like you have any room to talk._..’

And then it hits him all once-

He’s a dirty fucking hypocrite.

By the time he finally regains his wits enough to respond, Matsukawa has already rounded the corner, probably quite pleased with himself for that sly remark.  Hanamaki has half a mind to chase him down, but he finds himself glued to the spot.  After a solid minute of standing there like an idiot, he spins around, eyes fixed on the sidewalk as he speed walks toward his house.

He likes Matsukawa.  He really likes Matsukawa.  He’s probably liked him for a while.  And he’d never even connected the dots.  He may never have, if Yahaba Shigeru weren’t a annoying little snark.

All this time he’s spent teasing Oikawa and Iwaizumi behind their backs, to realize he’s just as bad as they are.  Just wonderful.  Amazing.  He honestly can’t believe this.

He bursts through the door of his house, and doesn’t even bother to greet his family as he races for the safety of his bedroom.  Moaning, he falls face first into his bed, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

Usually, if something were bothering him, he’d call Matsukawa.  That solution clearly wouldn’t be an effective one now.

At first, he debates consulting someone else, but as close as he is to many of his teammates, none of them seem like viable options. In the end, he settles for wallowing in self pity.  This does little good, but it at least gives him time to collect his thoughts.  Realizing you have a crush on your best friend isn’t exactly an easy thing to just accept.

Still, after an hour of quality sulking and moaning into his pillow, he thinks he’s come to grips with it.  In all honesty, he really should have caught on sooner.  The signs were all there; their easy chemistry, how casually close they are, the way they practically finish each other’s sentences.  

He supposes there are worst people to fall in love with _._  Like Oikawa. 

(Sorry Iwaizumi)

And if there’s one thing he’s decided, he’s sure as hell not going to repeat the mistakes of his dumbass teammates, however horrifying the idea of confessing his feelings may sound.

Some part of him almost commiserates with his dear friends.  Crushes really do suck.

Still, he’s not Oikawa, and Matsukawa is certainly not Iwaizumi.  They’ve never been afraid to tell each other anything before.  This couldn’t be any different.

It takes only an additional twenty minutes of mentally trying to prepare himself before he’s sprinting from his bedroom, shouting over his shoulder at his bewildered mother that he’ll be back later.

He manages the half-mile to Matsukawa’s house in record time.  He’s out of breath and panting heavily by the time he arrives, but he doesn’t give himself a moment to hesitate.  Steeling himself, he slinks into the background.

It only takes a few carefully aimed stones chucked at the house’s second story window before it’s pulled open, to reveal a bemused Matsukawa staring down at him.

“Makki…” he greets, lifting an eyebrow.

Hanamaki stares up at him, suddenly at a loss for words.  It’s at about this moment that he realizes he’d never really bothered to think this plan through.

“Hey, Mattsun,” he settles on saying, in a voice he hopes is purely casual.

“You do realize I’m the only one home, right?  There is such a thing as knocking, y’know? Probably comes with less risk of shattering one of my windows.”

“Heh… well…” Hanamaki trails off, unable to come up with a response to that. Okay, so he hadn’t thought this through at all.  But still, wasn’t confessing to a maiden in her bedroom supposed to be romantic?  That probably still applied here.  Maybe.  

Probably not.

_Shit._

Matsukawa snorts, settling his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Thanks for that intelligent explanation.”

“Fuck off.”

“You came all the way here to tell me to fuck off?” Matsukawa drawls, and Hanamaki almost hates him.   _Almost._

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” he states, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Next time, you could just text me.”

“Shut up and listen.”

“I’m listening.”

Hanamaki manages to take a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.  

“I like you, Mattsun.  In more than just a friend way.” He cuts off nervously, fidgeting with his hands.  He can practically feel his friend’s eyes drilling into his face, but he doesn’t dare look up.  His stomach twists uncomfortably, and he suddenly finds himself hoping that the ground will open up and swallow him whole.

“Just thought I should tell you…” he adds uncertainly.  With that, he promptly spins on his heels and turns to make his escape, not bothering to wait for a response or allowing himself a glimpse of Matsukawa’s expression.  

 _There_ , he tells himself.  Great to get that out of the way.  Now he’ll sprint home and never leave his bed for the rest of his life.

" _Makki_ -” Matsukawa calls.  Something in his voice causes Hanamaki to skid to a stop, however reluctantly.  “Did you seriously decide to shout at me from my backyard so you could have an easy escape route?”

Hanamaki shrugs, slightly sheepish.  “It was an added bonus,” he says weakly, and warily glances over his shoulder.  

Matsukawa is smiling at him, a rosy blush dusting his cheeks.“You’re ridiculous,” he sighs, leaning forward.  “Besides, you should already know I like you too.”

Hanamaki’s brain nearly short-circuits.

“I should…?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

“I thought I was pretty clear earlier…”

There’s a beat of silence where Hanamaki just continues to stare at him in abject confusion, before it finally clicks.

“That doesn’t count, you asshole!” he snaps, balling his hands into fists at his sides.

“I thought I was pretty smooth…” Matsukawa mumbles.  He’s clearly embarrassed now, half his face concealed behind the palm of his hand.  

“In what world is telling me you’d like to drunkenly make out with me at our friends’ wedding reception considered a confession?”

With an embarrassed laugh, Matsukawa ducks down to hide his face.  Still, he’s grinning despite himself; eyes shining behind his fingers.  

“Okay, so maybe your way was more romantic.”

Hanamaki can’t help but match his grin, even if his brain hasn’t quite caught up with what’s going on.  

“You’re a nerd, Issei.”

Matsukawa doesn’t look up right away, his shoulders trembling with silent laughter.  It takes a few seconds for him to regain his composure.  Finally, he manages to pull himself together and glances back up, offering a smile that makes Hanamaki’s knees feel weak.

“Want to come inside?”

Hanamaki swallows, and licks his lips.  “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is incompetent so I thought I'd post this here too, even if it's not much. I thought it was kinda funny, and Takahiro and Issei need more love.
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](http://www.hopenobodyeverfindsthis.tumblr.com) for more fics, and feel free to send me messages or prompts there because I always love it


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